Midnight Visits
by Beckydaspatz
Summary: His eyes caught hers again as he suppressed the urge to pull her into his arms. She looked empty, a shell of the woman he loved so fiercely. "Every night I save you." SPUFFY


A.N. For your viewing pleasure...SPUFFY! Set in the summer of when Buffy is dead. I still don't own anything..enjoy! :)

He always put out his cigarette before he arrived. He didn't know why, supposed he did it because he knew she wouldn't like it. He brought flowers every once in awhile, always different types. He hadn't had a chance to learn which ones she would have preferred. "Hello pet." he sighed, placing one hand against the tombstone. "Lovely night out eh?" He traced her name with his fingers, lost in thought. Several minutes passed before he grumbled. "Bloody hell." and pushed up to meet the newly risen vampire. "I'll have to take a rain check Slayer," he paused, raising back his hand to place a hefty punch. "Duty calls."

He was back the next night, mindlessly humming a Ramones song as he plopped down on the grass besides her grave. "Told you I'd be back." he sucked in an unneeded breath, ruffling his hair. "So... dreamt about you last night." he waited a minute before continuing. "It was a really good dream." he chuckled. "Well not a REALLY good dream." "Anyway in the dream we were fighting Glory right and I, well I was faster this time. I made it to the top of the tower and I threw that Doc bastard off this time. And I saved Dawn and then you..." his voice caught. "You know the rest." he pulled the rumpled bouquet from his jacket, set it on top of the fresh dirt. "Night Buffy."

He couldn't make it back out for a couple of nights. He'd been helping Dawn with her homework, and Harris also needed help moving a new couch into his apartment. He wondered when he had become a part of the group. It bothered him that he was content with being a part of the Scoobies. "It's dead out here tonight." he rifled through his duster for his flask, taking a long swig. "The bit misses you. She was crying up a storm the night before last. Thought I didn't notice, but I did. She reeked of it...wasn't sure what to do, so I patted her arm. Then she hugged me." he huffed. "Right awkward it was, but..." he broke off, with a sad smile. "It's what you would have wanted." He placed both hands into the dirt, fisting it tightly. "Miss you." he breathed.

He was back again, the same place, the same words...they didn't mean anything, didn't bring her back, but he couldn't not go there. He couldn't not have her in his life. He knelt to the ground. "Dawn misses you Buffy. She doesn't say anything, doesn't cry anymore...but there is a sadness living in her eyes now." He groaned. "S'not fair. She should be worried about boys and makeup and sodding tv shows. Not how to make it through the day!" he yelled. "It bloody well sucks." he grumbled. "Willow and Tara they try, and Giles, Xander and Anya...but their not you." he choked back a sob. "No one is you." he angrily wiped at the tears. "Christ, look at me," he chuckled darkly. "Sprung a leak I have." he said nothing else, waiting until the pink tinges of daylight until he returned to his crypt.

"It was the best dream yet." he smiled. "I had a flame thrower right, and here comes Doc with his bleeding tongue thing...I set the bugger on fire!" he cried triumphantly. "So he starts screaming yeah, and then he falls off the tower. I grab the bit, just as the blood is moving past her waist. So we are all safe and you..." he leaned his head into the tombstone. "You come bounding up, shampoo commercial hair and all, take in the scene and beam at me. All pearly whites shining from your face. Dawn she thanks me and hobbles off towards you. You hug her tight and then the rest damn scoobies are up there, taking her and then..." he broke off, ghosting a hand over his lips. "You kiss me, crushing my face to yours. And I...well I wake up." he scoffed. "It's a stupid dream I know. Although a sight saner than the Superman one."

He brought fake flowers this time, tired of seeing the others wither and die. He is so tired of death..."Hello Buffy. Brought you something." he laid the plastic carnations down. "Fucking plastic...hate it." he mumbled. His mind flashed to the Buffybot, her smile fake, no scent, no warmth, no fire behind the manufactured eyes. "I hate it." he said sternly. " Hate the way it isn't you, doesn't smell like you, doesn't feel like you...it's never you." he mourned, pushing his face into the dirt, inhaling deeply. He could smell nothing but the earth underneath him. He fought back a wave of grief as he tried again. There...dirt, decay, death. But just under that, soft, faint, weak...was her. "Oh God Buffy." he wept then, choking on dirt and tears and the ferocity of the emotions drowning him.

He didn't go back then, not for a long time. He barely managed to move when the sun broke through the trees that night. He wanted to become ash, mingle with the dirt on her grave. Find a way, ANY way to be with her. He had remembered his promise to Dawn, a promise the weeping girl had pleaded for one night. _"Please Spike," _she had begged, clinging to him like a lifeline. "_Don't leave me."_ And he had promised he wouldn't. So he had moved, shuffling his feet back to his crypt. He couldn't go back after that, couldn't let himself be that weak again. She was gone, and he needed to find a way to move past it.

He had to be dreaming, or dead...dead yeah. She was on the staircase. She was bathed in white, an angel. He heard his vocal cords move to form words, lost in the sensation of her, her scent, so strong he could barely breathe. He told her how long she had been gone, she looked so broken, so damaged, nothing but a deadness in her eyes. God how he had missed her eyes. He held their hands between them, fighting the urge to crush them to make sure she was real and afraid to touch her. If he continued to touch her she would disappear...become a gust of pride and power and bravery. He was broken out of his thoughts by the door flying open. 'Bloody scoobies.' he mentally cursed, leaving the room.

He thought about her...trapped in her coffin. Terrified and alone, desperately clawing towards the surface. He remembered when he had clawed out of his own coffin, screaming to the heavens as he had finally broke through the earth. Her eyes, when she finally met his, were haunted, tortured and pained. He slammed his fist in the wall, laughing insanely as he stared at the injury on his knuckles. His door opened from above and Spike rose to the top level, dagger in hand. He was very surprised to see Buffy. They engaged in some small talk, and then they sat in silence until he said "But I want you to know...I did save you. Not when it counted of course, but...after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again...do something different. Faster or more clever you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways..." he broke off thinking about all of the different ways. His eyes caught hers again as he suppressed the urge to pull her into his arms. She looked empty, a shell of the woman he loved so fiercely. "Every night I save you."

A.w.: I forgot to mention that I took the last dialogue Spike from Afterlife. The rest is mine. Thanks for reading :)


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